Let Her Go
by Kaslyna
Summary: "One day you'll make a dream last but dreams come slow and they go so fast". A story in which Clara discovers the diary of River Song and learns more about the Doctor and herself. 11/River and 11/Clara. Will always be T; I may decide to make an M-rated companion piece if enough people want, though that won't be for a while.


**A/N: This is loosely based off one of my favorite books. LOOSELY based. This takes place not too long after Clara and the Doctor are out of his timestream. Obviously will be AU based on canon. I apologize, but I am American so I'll do my best with slang but if I'm not up to par that's why.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

What first caught Clara's eye was that the book was blue and shaped vaguely like a TARDIS. Next was the fact that it was very worn, and obviously meant something to the Doctor if its location was any indication: in a box of things in what might be considered the attic of the TARDIS, strewn about haphazardly amongst other boxes of things she couldn't name nor really wanted to. There was even an old-looking cot that she wondered, briefly, who it belonged to.

She contemplates for a moment the morality of taking the book, finally deciding to do so but make sure the Doctor didn't find out. Her instincts told her the book was in the attic, and not the library, for a reason, likely a highly personal one.

As she snuck out and into her room as quickly as possible, Clara felt a twinge of guilt. He obviously would have put the book in the library if he'd wanted it read. Nevertheless she felt compelled into reading the diary and knowing all it entailed.

She settles onto her bed, opening the book as gently as possible. Then she frowns; it's a diary. Clara thinks perhaps it's not a good idea to read it; she decides to skim through it instead.

That goes out the window when she finds the name at the end of an entry.

This is the diary of River Song.

She gulps, then goes back to the first page. She's been curious about River for a long while, but the Doctor was never forthcoming. Now knowing she's a she, and a sort-of ex of the Doctor's, Clara can't help but want to know every secret about her and her life with the Doctor.

**DWDWDW**

_This feels silly to me, keeping a diary. Like something a child would do. But the Doctor has insisted I do so. A compilation of our life together, forever immortalized on paper. So we'll never forget where we are or were or will be. I guess I should clarify, but what for? We're timetravellers. We never meet in the right order. That's all that anyone needs to know should this diary fall into the wrong hands. _

_ He keeps a diary as well. The same one, bless. I hope that doesn't cause problems at a future date, though he assured me thus far it hasn't. I suppose the TARDIS must have something to do with that, perhaps?_

_ As I write this, my new husband (and isn't that strange? Me, married?) lies sleeping beside me. I don't think Timelords sleep much, but I suppose I wore him out. I couldn't bring myself to write in this diary in front of him. It would have seemed odd._

_ I've slept all I will tonight. How can I sleep when he's here next to me? Finally, everything I've yearned and __strive__ for these past years is right here __beside me._

_ I suppose I should write down what happened. He took me to Calderon Beta, on the night with the most stars in the universe. On the top of a tall tree we watched as the stars came out, sharing a bucket of chips as we did. We were like two children, teasing and bickering. Yet there was an underlying affection on his part; he wasn't nervous around me any longer. When he kissed me, it was with a sureness that comes only from the certainty of love._

_ Bless, but he wouldn't do anything in the open! He's so old-fashioned, insisting that we make it back to the TARDIS. I suppose it was worth it, however. Not that I'll write what transpired here; even I, with my questionable morality, have some modesty when it comes to my sex life with my husband._

_ I think he's waking. Anyways, I was almost done. I suppose this is all for now._

_ -River Song_

**DWDWDW**

The first entry, Clara finds, is too vague to discern much of anything. So she reads on throughout the night, finally stopping after the particularly graphic third entry, deciding to continue the next day (or what constitutes day in the TARDIS) if the Doctor lets her have time to herself.

Her dreams are filled of curly hair and that mysterious smile that doesn't quite reach River Song's eyes. Who are you, her dreams ask, but River Song never answers with more than, "Spoilers".

The next morning finds Clara exhausted as she trudges into the kitchen in a dress that's a size too small for her. The Doctor, bless him, doesn't look beyond a cursory first glance. Then he hands her a coffee without a word; he can tell she needs it. Clara smiles her thanks and sits down. It's oddly domestic, especially when he puts a plate of toast in front of her. But it's been like this since they got out of his timestream; him taking care of her, making her breakfast and feeding her lunch and dinner out somewhere.

"I thought we could go to this little planet located in Cassiopeia. Lots of shopping, if you'd like that. Then maybe a picnic dinner; they have three suns, and the sunsets are green and grey. It sounds dreadful, but it's actually quite beautiful," he tells her, presenting his plans to her as he always does now: optional.

"Sounds lovely. Perfect, even," she tells him, forcing a tiny smile. It's not hard; he lights up when he's happy and right now he's delighted. River Song's diary can wait; she has a date (is it improper to call it a date? She'll have to find out somehow) with the Doctor.

He parks, and they have a lovely day. He buys her whatever she wants; she's pleased to find she's a small size, even on this planet where the people are no more than a hand in diameter. She supposes it's because they cater often to humans and humanoids.

Dinner is a lovely affair; the sunset is as gorgeous as the Doctor promised.

"So, what time should I pick you up Wednesday?" he asks her, and she remembers he's taking her home shortly afterwards. It makes her mood drop a little, but his courtesy (despite the fact that he's never on time) touches her.

"Whenever is fine," she replies breezily, knowing that by not putting more pressure on him than Wednesday will make him feel better.

He smiles, "Anything to get out of your room?"

"A few things," she tells him coolly.

"Alright," he agrees.

They finish dinner; after, he takes her to a little jazz club. It's 4006, but it turns out, even so far away, they still have old-world style jazz clubs. They have dessert and dance; it's late when they finally return to the TARDIS.

Clara grabs her things, says goodbye, and is promptly dropped off into real life.

She hopes she'll never get used to being dropped off.


End file.
